


one hand feeling along the walls

by humanveil



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: F/M, Ficlet Collection, Non-Linear Narrative, Slow To Update, WIP, rating will increase
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2020-04-14
Packaged: 2020-07-12 06:50:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19941973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: Contact, one to one hundred.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this fic has no real plot; it's a series of ficlets that are semi-related and which i felt weren't worth posting on their own. most, if not all, are based on one word prompts. 
> 
> warnings/summaries/whatever will be found in chapter notes when appropriate. enjoy!
> 
> title comes from the poem [permission by seema reza.](https://www.californiapoetics.org/poems/6740/permission-by-seema-reza/)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: shake.  
> rating: g.

The first thing Olivia notices about Elliot is that he has a nice smile. 

It’s bright. Lights up his whole face, the stretch of his mouth wide and full. His eyes crinkle at the sides, expression genuine even through the obvious exhaustion, making him look much softer than he had when they’d entered the room. She’s only seen it a second before she decides it’s something she wants to see again. 

The second thing she notices is that his hands are cold. 

“Olivia Benson, Elliot Stabler,” Cragen is saying, their hands locking together as he informs them they’ll be working together. 

Olivia smiles, feels the calloused skin of Elliot’s hand against her palm, feels the chill seep into her own warmer flesh. He has a firm grip: strong and assured. It’s something that seems present in all of him; the next thing she notices the hard lines of his body, the way his suit conceals solid muscle. The way he holds himself.

Her tongue runs across her bottom lip before she says, “It’s nice to meet you.” 

He shakes with his right hand. She doesn’t notice the ring until later. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: collar.  
> gating: t.

Elliot gives the outfit one last look-over, gaze trailing from the expensive leather shoes to the form fitting navy suit: his disguise for the night, some hotshot with wandering hands. They’ve been working the case for over a week. 

He’s making for the locker room door when Liv stops him. “Hold on,” she says, jogging to catch up. “You’ve got—”

She cuts off, comes to a halt in front of him. For her part, she’s dressed as she normally is; will be watching on a monitor from the van outside. He still thinks she looks better than he does. 

“What,” he says, half a murmur, looking down at himself. Rather than answer, Olivia lifts her hand. Rests it on his shoulder. 

Fingers, soft and warm, brush over the back of his neck as they fix his collar, smooth the fabric. Elliot stills, tense beneath her touch but not because it’s unwanted. Quite the opposite, if he’s honest: a familiar kind of heat pooling his insides with Olivia this close. 

She smiles when it’s done, hand trailing across the blazer and down his torso: quick and innocent enough to be casual if they both didn’t know better. “All good,” she tells him, voice warm. Lightly teasing. He half expects her to wink when she turns away. 

She doesn’t. His _thank_ _you_ stays stuck in his throat. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: first hug.  
> warnings: canonical character death (serena).  
> rating: g/t.

He finds her after everyone has left, her mother’s body buried six feet under. She’s sitting in the corner of the room, conscious of her breathing as she stares out the window, down to where people pass: uncaring of the week she’s had. Her throat is tight. Accompanied by a faint burn of her eyes. She hasn’t cried, yet. Is trying not to.

“You alright?”

His voice is quiet, careful, concerned. She recognises it, the way Elliot softens when he’s worried about her. It makes her chest tight for a different reason entirely.

She doesn’t respond, just stares. Knows her eyes are red-rimmed with bags beneath. She didn’t sleep last night; the night before that, either. 

“I know,” Elliot says. His shoulder shifts as if to shrug. “Dumb question.”

Olivia feels her mouth twitch. Would smile if she had the energy. He exhales, long and low. Sits on the couch beside her: close, their shoulders brushing, legs touching. He lifts his arm and drapes it across the lounge; a gentle pressure. _An act of comfort_. Her throat constricts again.

“It’s okay if you’re not,” Elliot adds, a soft murmur. She feels his breath against her cheek. “You know that, yeah?”

She shuts her eyes. Emotion is clawing at her throat, is dousing it in gasoline and setting it on fire. She feels it burn, thick, as she tries to swallow. Feels her body go tense with it. She knows Elliot feels it, too, when his arm drops with a heavier weight, a half-hug, pulling her closer.

The damn is about to break. Olivia knows it is; can _feel_ it. Her shoulders shake: once, twice, three times. She falls against him, restraint gone, and his other arm comes up to catch her. He shifts, twists, tightens his hold; _secure_. She feels a warm, heavy hand rub circles across her back, _soothing._ His shoulder is solid, his shirt soft beneath her cheek. _Safe._

She wants to say, _I’m sorry._ Wants to say, _It’s stupid._ Wants to say _s_ he’s been waiting for this her whole life. Had known it was coming since the first time she’d found Serena unconscious: six years old, scared, confused, unsure of what to do. She wants to tell him, _It’s not surprising._

All that comes out is a broken sob. Harsh and guttural and filled with grief.

Elliot holds her through it.

Olivia clings for her life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: shoulder  
> rating: g

The body of their third victim comes in at half past eight, when they’ve already been working the case for over a week. _Warner’s working on the report now_ , Fin announces, and Cragen nods before he points to where Elliot and Olivia are going over the latest pics from the newest crime scene. “Get your asses there and wait,” he says, all Commanding Officer, daring them to argue.

They don’t.

It’s how Elliot finds himself sitting in a too-small plastic chair, Olivia’s head on his shoulder and his jacket thrown across her as she catches whatever sleep she can get. 

**Author's Note:**

> feel free to drop a comment and/or leave a prompt!


End file.
